


Dude, Where's My Bed?

by mollus



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Destiel - Freeform, Drabble, M/M, relationship Dean Winchester/Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 10:44:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12386499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mollus/pseuds/mollus
Summary: It's a college AU drabble involving accidental snuggling. What more do you want?





	Dude, Where's My Bed?

It was Dean’s third, count them, _third_ night at college, and he was already sure he was going to shoot himself. Or more likely, his neighbors.

That was because Dean had yet to get a complete night’s sleep since he’d moved in to Impala House. He’d had to arrive at college at 2:30am on Thursday morning, because his plane had gotten so delayed. Dean had collapsed into, or rather _onto_ bed, still fully dressed. He hadn’t bothered to unpack his bedding, partially because he was so exhausted, but partially because he was sure he could sleep in the next day and unpack then.

Of course, he hadn’t exactly planned on the Frosh Week Leaders bursting into his unlocked room at 7:30am, screaming “ _GOOD_ MORNING, VIETNAM!”, spraying him with silly string, and hauling him out of bed for pancakes and “yoga racing”. Dean’s pretty sure _no_ _one_ could be ready for _that_. But he got it, and he tried to be a good sport about it and meet some of his fellow undergrads.

The next night, Thursday, he’d managed to get to bed at around 1:00am. However, the girl next door, Charlie, had clearly found the “complimentary” bowl of condoms in the Proctor’s office, because he was quickly awoken around 3:00am when her headboard started crashing merrily into the wall. It then continued to do so, at half-hour intervals, for the next four hours.

Dean’s first class was at 8:00am.

Charlie, when she had found out that Dean was in the room next to her, had apologized profusely. She hadn’t realized that she had neighbors at all. They actually got to talking about their favourite video game, Angels versus Demons, and Dean thought there could be worse people to live beside.

Now it was Friday night. Dean lay on his back in bed, eyes bloodshot, listening to the pounding bass beat smash its way through his ceiling. He looked over at his clock. The dim red light read 3:30am. Dean threw an arm over his face. The people in the room above him, happy that they had finished their first full day of classes, had decided that the perfect way to celebrate was to throw the most obnoxious party they possibly could in a tiny dorm room. There had been music, voices, and stomping feet through Dean’s ceiling since 11:30pm.

Until about 1:30am, Dean had put in headphones and studied through the noise. Someone had wandered by to ask him if he wanted to join the fun, but Dean had declined. He was here to study, and it would be hard enough as it was. He was on a full-ride scholarship to his college, which meant he needed absolutely perfect grades at all times. Besides that, he was just so fucking _tired_ he couldn’t even _imagine_ being able to deal with drunk people right now. He’d probably fall asleep on the floor, music and people forgotten.

Or at least, that’s what Dean had thought. He’d tried to go to sleep after studying, but the noise was just too much. He’d tried to read, thinking they had to start petering out in an hour, but they’d been going strong when he’d collapsed back into bed at 2:45am.

As there was a particularly wince-inducing _crash_ on Dean’s ceiling, with an accompanying drunken cheer, Dean groaned in frustration. For Christ’s _sake_ , he thought, all I want is one night of some goddamn _peace and quiet!_

As if by magic, the music suddenly turned off, and the talking and cheering stopped. Then, there were assorted thumping noises that indicated people walking out of the room, and away.

The noise slowly dissolved into total silence.

Dean moved his arm off his face and cautiously cracked and eyelid.

Nothing but sweet, beautiful, _silence_.

Dean thanked whoever had apparently been listening to his prayer, and happily rolled onto his side. He pulled the covers of his quilt up to his chin, flipped his pillow, and prepared to sink into darkness.

The door suddenly creaked open, and then shut again.

Dean didn’t move a muscle, just settled down further. His friend Benny lived in an apartment across town, and Dean had said he could just share Dean’s double bed if he worked late and didn’t want to go all the way home. They’d been friends since they were sixteen, so neither of them cared. Dean couldn’t remember Benny saying he might be stopping in that night, but he figured Dean’d just forgotten that conversation through the tired confusion of the past few days.

There was a gentle thumping noise of shoes being tossed off, then a shirt and pants, and then the sound of footsteps wandering over to the bed. The mattress dipped for a moment, and settled. There was a few shuffling noises, and the blankets were tugged away from Dean, and then silence. Quiet snores floated over to Dean after a moment.

 Dean made himself comfortable again, stealing back some of the blankets, and quickly floated off.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

When Dean woke up the next morning, he was more comfortable and rested than he could remember being in a long time.

The sun was glowing gently through the room’s blue-striped curtains, and Dean could hear a few people on the quad outside, talking quietly. A breeze floated a curtain for a moment.

Dean was about to drift on back to dreamland when he realized why _exactly_ he felt as comfortable as he did. There was a long, lean body stretched the length of Dean’s person, spooning him. There was one hand on his stomach, one hand on his chest, and a face with soft hair buried in his shoulder. That, and one hell of a morning wood jabbing into his hip.

Dean mentally rolled his eyes. Clearly Benny missed Andrea more than he said he did. He also sighed inwardly a little. Be nice if he usually had some of that in his bed, but you don’t always get what you want, and Dean was pretty sure his scholarship-hermit ways weren’t going to increase his chances.

“Move,” Dean grunted quietly, jabbing an elbow back into a hip. Nothing happened. Maybe a grumble. The arm around his stomach shuffled, and then slid right back into position.

“C’mon, dude,” Dean said, wiggling a little bit, and trying to move onto his back so he could more easily shove Benny off, “I mean I know we’re close but I ain’t your Andrea substitu-”

That was as far as Dean got before he managed to fully crane his head around to look at the head snuggled into his shoulder. The head that was not covered in Benny’s cropped brown hair, but a mess of long, fluffy black bedhead.

Dean froze for a moment. Then the head snuggled even more firmly against Dean’s shoulder, and all hell broke loose.

Dean yelled and launched himself straight backwards out of his bed, landing on his ass with a _thud_ and the crashing back against the closet. The guy flailed his way upright; eyes now wide open, and then fell backwards off the other side of the bed.

“WHAT THE- WHO THE FUCK- WHAT THE _HELL_ ARE YOU _DOING_ HERE _?!’_ Dean bellowed.

“What- WHAT THE FUCK ARE _YOU_ DOING HERE?!” the guy shrieked back.

“This- THIS IS MY _ROOM_!”

“No it is FUCKING _NOT!”_

Dean jumped to his feet, and the guy scrambled up as well. The guy was vainly trying to wind one of the sheets around his waist. Dean thought absently that he wasn’t sure why, it wasn’t like he hadn’t been up close and personal with _all of him_ until about 30 seconds ago.

Dean crossed his arms angrily across his chest. “Yes it damn well is! Room two-oh-four, _Dean Winchester_!”

The guy’s face suddenly drained of all colour, and he stopped struggling with the sheet. “Wait, wait, WAIT. Room two-oh- _four_?”

“Yeah!” Dean growled, “Do you not check numbers when you look for _3am snuggle buddies?!”_

Now the guy looked absolutely mortified. “Oh- oh my god. I missed- I missed the room, oh my god, oh my god-”

Now Dean was just legitimately confused. He dropped his arms. “Missed what room?”

The guy was looking frantically around for his things. “The- the room! She said, she said I could stay with her if I thought I was too drunk to get back to my dorm, and I was just so _tired_ because of the fucking Frosh Leaders and the water balloons and Charlie, Charlie said to just come in don’t knock and oh my god I’m so sorry Jesus Chri-”

Dean jerked when he heard Charlie’s name, and finally managed to cut in. “Woah woah _woah_! Charlie? As in, Charlie Bradbury, in two-oh- _three_?”

“ _Yes!_ ” The guy exclaimed, still looking frantic, and now trying to pull on his pants. Dean watched as he grabbed a pair he clearly _thought_ was his, as he realized they were actually _Dean’s_ , and then panic-throw them across the room.

Dean also pieced everything together.

“So you were going to stay the night in _Charlie’s_ room, and you… missed her door?”

The guy temporarily gave up his struggle to find his pants. “Exactly! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to break into your room, she just said that it wouldn’t be locked and I was so tired I guess I just… went past her by one. And then it was dark and I couldn’t see but I only saw one person in the bed and only the _one_ bed so-”

“-So it seemed like the right room.” Dean finished.

“Yeah,” the guy said. “And… I guess I do tend to invade people’s personal space when I sleep, too.” He smiled sheepishly, carefully, at Dean.

Dean pondered this for a minute, looking at the guy. Well, it wasn’t like he’d done it on purpose. And it was partially Dean’s fault for not locking his door, although he wasn’t going to admit that. He took the guy in. That fluffy black hair was coupled with wide blue eyes, skin like warm honey, and a slight but well-muscled frame.

That didn’t hurt his case, either.

Dean smirked a little. “Well,” he said, pretend-thoughtfully, “I’ve had worse bed-partners. At least you didn’t hog _all_ the blankets.”

The guy blushed cherry-pink. “That’s… that’s good to hear.” He cleared his throat. “I’m, uh, Castiel. Castiel Novak.”

“Nice to meet you, Castiel, I’m Dean.” He grinned at him.

Castiel visibly relaxed and smiled back. He leaned over and reached out a hand for Dean to shake, which Dean took. He then crouched and when back to looking for his pants, found them at the end of the bed, and started to haul them on.

Dean nabbed a purple t-shirt from beside the door that he was fairly certain wasn’t his, and tossed it over to Castiel, who grabbed it and started to pull it over his head, looking thankful. Dean headed to the door and opened it for him as Castiel found his sneakers.

Castiel walked out, but then paused, and turned around, looking suddenly nervous.

“Do you… uh, I mean, do you want to get breakfast from the cafeteria with me? I mean, my head is pounding and I could really use a bacon sandwich, and I still feel really bad for invading your bed uninvited like that, I mean, uh, not that you would invite me- um.” Castiel stopped, turning bright red again.

Dean snickered. “Bacon sandwiches sound fantastic.” He grabbed his keys, thankful he’d slept in his clothes again last night.

As Dean locked the door, the guy that lived down the hall from Dean- Luc, Dean was pretty sure- shouted, “Have a good sleep last night, Winchester?” from his doorway. He waggled his tongue at them.

Dean smirked and slung one arm around Castiel’s waist. “Best in days, dude!” He called back. Luc scowled and shut his door.

He looked at Castiel. He appeared to be having a cross between an aneurysm and a fit of laughter.

“So,” he said, once Castiel caught his breath, “Breakfast, then?”

 


End file.
